


Map of the Sentinel Heart Part 2

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Angst, Drama, First Times, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 09:00:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/796365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim learns to fight for what he wants. Final in the series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Map of the Sentinel Heart Part 2

## Map of the Sentinel Heart Part 2

by Scala

Not mine in body, but definitely mine in spirit. Hey, I've seen the show . I know UST when I see it.

Thank you soooo much to all those wonderful people who wrote to me about the first half. I thought the second half might take a couple days longer to finish, but I decided I couldn't leave you hangin' any longer. I hope you think it's worth the wait. Of course, feedback either way is always welcome. <g>   
A huge thank you to Kaye for the beta. You rock, babe.

This will make no sense at all if you haven't read the first part.

This story is a sequel to: Map of the Sentinel Heart Part 1 

* * *

Part Six 

The morning was quiet and undisturbed as Jim stepped out into the darkness. He'd left as late as he could and now a glow had already appeared on the horizon, making him move quickly across the road, down the alley to his car. With lights off for a while, he drove until he was clear of the town and then sped up, heading due east for a few hours, then north until he could approach Cascade from the north east. There was nobody behind him, but that didn't mean there wouldn't be anybody seeing what direction he came home from. 

If only he could be sure he was just being paranoid. If only there hadn't been physical evidence that he was under surveillance. Jack Kelso had done some sniffing around for him - though he'd insisted that Blair's friend do nothing to expose his own position - but all he could discover was that somebody was interested in what Jim was doing, with no indication of who that somebody might be or why they'd be interested. In some respects, the lack of information made the whole situation even more sinister. 

The only thing he could be sure of was that he was in danger, and so was Blair. 

He drove carefully and despite his lack of sleep the previous night, he was incredibly alert and focused. Spending a night with Blair could do that to a man. 

But he didn't think about making love to Blair. He would have time to do that later when he would deliberately pause over every small detail, remembering and savouring, allowing his body to enjoy the memory. Instead, he simply coasted on the feeling, willing it to last as long as possible. If this didn't stop soon, that might have to be a very long time indeed. 

It was midday by the time he pulled in to Steven's drive. Before he got out of the car, he called Simon, just to let him know he was back in one piece. Then he got out, went inside, grabbed something to eat and headed to bed. Even as he lay down, he couldn't wipe the smile from his face, and he could find not one single reason to try. 

* * *

Blair slept. Not long, just enough to let him drive when he finally got around to disengaging himself from the bed he'd shared with Jim. But doing that had proved to be only slightly easier than letting the man himself go. Jim's scent was all over the sheets, the smell of their sex still filled the air and it made his skin tingle, his muscles tired and worn out from their exertions, some parts of him sore and tender from the kind of contact he'd never experienced before. 

The whole thing had been such a surprise, and yet, at the time, he hadn't felt surprised at all. The only thing he'd really felt was need. No, that wasn't a strong enough word. 

He lay in bed, wrapped in the covers, his face pressed against Jim's pillow until the last possible moment. Then he got up, showered, dressed and pulled his hair back. He almost paused long enough to tidy the room, perhaps even remove the condoms, destroy the evidence of what they'd been doing, but it seemed like some vague form of sacrilege he couldn't bring himself to perform. So, with a last longing look around the room, he left, sliding his key into the lock so he wouldn't have to check out. By the time he climbed into his car it was right on midday. 

He didn't drive straight home. Instead, he followed the coast road for a couple of hours until he found a caf that looked out over the sea. He stopped and ate for the first time in two days, then ate again as his appetite finally returned in force. He was on his final cup of tea when it actually hit him. 

Jim hadn't said goodbye. 

* * *

'Where have you been?' Steven looked up from his newspaper as Jim sat down at the table with his first cup of coffee for the day. 

'Busy.' 

'You've been gone three days. I was getting worried.' 

Jim snagged the sports section from Steven's hand and spread it out in front of himself. 'Why? Did anybody ask after me?' 

'You mean Sandburg?' 

'Not just him.' Jim turned the page and offered up a glance to his brother before seeking out the Jags scores. 

'No, nobody that I noticed.' Steven watched him for a moment, then reached for another slice of toast, buttering it slowly before continuing. 'Aren't you at work today?' 

'I'm taking some personal time.' 

'Oh. Got anything in particular planned?' 

Jim paused before letting his gaze rise again to meet his brother's, keeping his voice and expression level and uncomplicated. 'Why? Do you have a suggestion?' 

Steven shrugged. 'No, not really. Thought we might have lunch together at that new place Sandra has opened up. She specifically asked me to invite you. She's interested.' 

Jim pursed his lips, nodded a little and said, 'Okay. But not today, tomorrow. I have something else on today. I might be back late, so let's say 1pm tomorrow. I'll meet you at your office. Don't want to let Sandra see my truck, do we?' 

Steven narrowed his gaze a moment, then raised his eyebrows. 'Fine, 1pm - though I'm sure Sandra would just think your truck is quaint.' 

Jim folded up the newspaper and took his cup into the kitchen. 'I'm sure she does, Stevie, I'm sure she does.' 

* * *

Jim left the house and headed to the grocery store, buying up on a few necessities before making a fairly straightforward loop to the loft. He took his things upstairs, then knocked on the door of 305. 

A woman who might have been sixty - or ninety - opened the door, her foggy blue eyes lighting up at the sight of him. 'Oh, Detective Ellison, how are you?' 

'I'm great Mrs. Watson. How are you?' 

'The arthritis is doing a little better thanks to that seaweed Blair suggested I use. Have you seen him lately? I know you must miss him.' 

'I do, Mrs. Watson.' 

'Do you have any idea when he's coming home?' 

'I'm afraid I don't.' 

'Well, don't stand out there, come inside. I've put all your packages there behind the door. They arrived yesterday and I made sure the driver set them all down very carefully, just as you asked. There were two deliveries, as you said.' 

There were three boxes, one a little larger than the other two. He managed them in a pile on his arms. 'Thank you so much Mrs. Watson, and remember, not a word to anyone, okay?' 

'It will be our secret. And next time you speak to Blair, send him my love will you?' 

'I will indeed.' 

The old lady sent him off with a wave and he headed back to his apartment, closing and securely locking the door before he set the packages down on the table. The blinds were drawn and he left the lights off. Hell, he was a sentinel. If he couldn't read a few simple instructions without help, then those guys out there in the black car may as well go home. 

He opened the big box first, extracting a laptop computer and setting it down carefully on the table. In the smaller of the other two boxes were cables, a modem scrambler and a small scanner. Within ten minutes, he had it all up and running, opening a connection to the website Jack Kelso had given him. 

He left the laptop then, and opened up the last box, tipping its contents out onto the table. Just looking at the stuff was difficult enough - and the temptation to indulge his baser instincts tugged at him for five long minutes as he checked to make sure everything he'd ordered was there. 

He unwrapped the videos and stuffed the plastic into the trash he was taking with him. Ignoring the suggestive pictures on the front, he slotted one after the other into the video player and pressed fast forward, and rewind, leaving the last one in the machine, half way though the tape. The covers he stacked behind his normal videos on the shelf, obscured, but not impossible to find again later. 

He left the other things on the table for the moment. He'd take them upstairs and do what he had to do once he'd finished here. Right now, his fingers were itching in anticipation so he sat down, and addressed the email, almost willing Blair to be online at the same time as him, so they could at least have that much of a connection. 

To: oregonwolf2@commune.org   
From: pantherinlove@theorg.net  
Date: Sept 30  
Subject: is the TV still on? 

Hey, 

It's me. I got a laptop from Jack with all sorts of filters and scrubbing software already set up, along with a secure email, though you'll have to delete all my messages after you read them just in case. 

I can't believe the other night. Haven't stopped thinking about it. Feel like you're still with me. 

I hope you got back okay. I heard it started snowing in south Oregon this morning. The hills must look real pretty right now. 

I have some stuff to say. 

I'm going to get us out of this. I know what I have to do - but I had to see you first, just in case something went wrong. I couldn't go off knowing that I'd passed up my one chance to be with you, and worse, that you might never know how I feel about you, that you'd have to go on living with the silence. 

And no matter what else happens now, I have those memories of you, of touching you, loving you, being inside you, you inside me. There aren't any words for how that felt so I won't even bother trying. 

I have to drop out of sight for a while now. I need to know who these guys are and why they're watching me. Then I need to make them go away. I promise I'll be as careful as I can. I know you're going to worry, but I hope you don't worry too much. Even if that one night was all we'll ever have, it was more than I could ever have hoped to deserve. 

I love you. 

* * *

Blair read the email three times in quick succession, because there was a line of people waiting to use the computer. With only the one email connection on the commune, sometimes it got like this. He didn't even have time to write a reply beyond confirming that he'd got back safely and yes, it was snowing and very pretty now. Then he had to delete the email and hand his place over to the next person. 

He went back to his bungalow in the dark, hugging his arms around himself but not from the cold. By the time he got back inside, the glow brought on by the simple contact from Jim had faded a little. He poured himself some coffee, lacing it liberally before sitting down on the floor before the crackling fire. Though alcohol was basically contraband, he'd been allowed a small personal stash since he wasn't yet a full member of the commune. For the most part, the rules had discouraged him from drinking much, and in the current situation, that was probably a good thing. So he sat, sipping his sharp coffee, watching the flames flicker and sizzle. 

And that was when the terror set in. 

His hands shook. No matter how much he drank, his mouth just kept getting dryer. Though the lights were on, the room seemed unnaturally dark and his feeling of isolation grew and grew. 

How would he even know if anything had happened to Jim? How would he survive if it did? 

He drained his coffee and eyed the whiskey bottle, wondering if anybody would notice if he emerged tomorrow morning with a hangover. 

His budding plans were interrupted by a knock on the door. 'Blair? It's Heather.' 

He didn't want company. Didn't want to have to explain himself to anybody right now. And some part of his confused brain was positive that if he allowed himself to stop thinking about Jim for one minute, then something bad would happen. 

'Come on, Blair. Open up.' 

He sighed and got to his feet. He put his cup down and the bottle back in the cupboard and went to open the door. It was dark and cold outside. Heather stood there wrapped in a thick woolen poncho, a matching knitted cap on her head. 

'How are you?' she asked with great gentleness. 

'I ...' Blair opened his mouth to say he was fine, but the words stuck there, bitter with the lie. 'Not doing so well.' 

'What's happened? Has Steven been in touch again?' 

Blair shook his head, unable to move even to ask her in, or close the door to hold in the heat. 'Jim emailed. He's about to do something very dangerous.' He looked up then, his throat constricting. 'I'm scared.' 

'Of course you are,' Heather replied softly. Without asking, she stepped around him enough to pull down his coat and gloves from the hook behind the door. Then she held them for him to put on, steering him out of the bungalow and closing the door behind them. 'The boys have got their guitars out, Melanie has made some hot chocolate with those delicious home made marshmallows and Tim has volunteered to make cinnamon toast. Come and join us.' 

'I don't think I can.' Blair murmured. 'I'm not going to be very good company.' 

'Oh, Blair,' Heather put her arm around his shoulders and steered him down the path. 'We don't love you because you're good company. This is not a time for you to be alone. You're going to worry yourself sick until you hear from Jim, and you need to hold on until then. How would he feel if we didn't look after you until he comes to visit? Now, you don't have to talk if you don't want to, and nobody will insist you play or anything. Just come and not be alone, okay?' 

'Okay.' 

Blair let himself be led between the log cabins and tall trees until they reached the door of the common room. He could hear voices, laughter and music coming from inside and the truth was, it sounded so enticing he couldn't bring himself to leave. Heather pushed the door open and with his hand in hers, brought him before the assembled group, all people he knew and had become friends with. They quietened down and looked up at Blair. He saw only compassion in their eyes. 

'Now people, Blair needs us. His boyfriend is in danger and he has no way of knowing what's going to happen. He's very frightened right now, and has every reason to be. He needs some love and I think we can arrange that, can't we?' 

There was a chorus of affirmation at that, not to mention a few dry comments enough to turn Blair's impending tears into a kind of thick laughter. Yeah, he was very lucky indeed with this place, these people. How could he turn down friendship like this? 

He allowed himself to be drawn into them, but there wasn't suffocating amounts of hugs and touches, just a few here and there, before the natural good mood of the group resurfaced and reached out to buoy him up. Without even realising it, he began to draw strength from them, and when, a couple of hours later somebody handed him a guitar, he took it, launching straight into a Santana riff he'd learned just to piss off Jim. The very sound of it made him smile. 

End Part Six 

* * *

Part Seven 

Jim stretched out on the rooftop, comfortable in his position a little back from the edge of the building, black cap hiding him from the street below. For three weeks now, he'd done this, slipping away from the surveillance team for a few hours without them knowing, so that he could in turn watch them. He'd learned a lot over that time, almost enough to let him make the next move. 

Getting himself settled, he held one of Blair's old shirts up to his face, so he could ground himself and not zone. After all this time, there was little of Blair's scent on the shirt, but in a way, that was a good thing, as it meant he had to concentrate to keep hold of it and not get lost in his other senses. When he was ready, he reached out with his hearing, easily catching the conversation going on in the car below. 

'Did you speak to Saunders?' 

'This morning.' 

'He say how much longer we're gonna be on this detail?' 

'Dunno, but I got the impression we won't be going home soon. Not unless something changes.' 

'So they still can't find the kid? I don't get why Saunders just doesn't bring Ellison in and apply a little pressure. All this sitting around is getting on my nerves. Surely one of them is better than nothing at all.' 

'Well, Saunders thinks that if he brings Ellison in we'll never find either the kid or the manuscript. The only thing he's sure of is that we need both of them. He's getting pressure from above.' 

'Yeah? From Mannighan?' 

'Nah, doesn't sound like Mannighan has anything to do with this. Made me wonder about it.' 

'Yeah, well, we're not paid to use our brains, remember?' 

'You know as well as I do Ellison's hiding something. I wouldn't be surprised if he knows we're watching him. If he really is one of these sentinels, then he's probably thinking all he needs to do is just wait us out until we go away.' 

'And what if he isn't?' 

There was a pause in which Jim imagined the two agents swapping a look. Then the second man continued without answering the question. 

'Saunders wants Ellison and Sandburg. All along he's hammered the bible about needing both of them or there's no point. No idea where he's got his information, but he looks ready to explode every time he's questioned about it.' 

'Like I said, we should bring Ellison in. A little persuasion will make him change his mind.' 

'He's Black Ops trained, remember. Besides, there's always the chance that he really _doesn't_ know where the kid is - in which case, I'm sure he'd sue the Agency's ass all the way to the Supreme Court.' 

'So, what? We just sit here and wait?' 

'Yep, we just sit here and wait.' 

Jim relaxed and drew his hearing back. He'd already heard everything he needed. He was right. It was time to move. 

Carefully he pulled back from the edge of the building, removing his black clothes and shoving them and Blair's shirt into the small backpack he'd brought with him. Then in a crouch, he got back to the stairwell and ran down to the second floor. He paused long enough to listen for surveillance, then slipped out the fire door. He emerged into the lobby and walked through to the theatre door as though he'd just been to the men's room. Nobody paid him any attention. 

He opened the door a crack and stepped inside, the darkness and sounds of the movie concealing his entrance. Still watchful, he regained his seat on the edge of the back row and threw Megan a smile. 

'Okay?' She whispered. 

'Yep. It's time.' 

'I can't wait.' 

Jim took her hand, encouraged her to lean into him and sat back, ready to spend the rest of the evening as though they were on a date instead of planning a counter attack. 

After the film finished, they wandered down the street, heading for the ice-cream parlor. Megan tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow and they swapped smiles and tidy little banter like a couple happily falling for each other. For the first time, Jim was enormously glad that Megan had the ability to step into a role like this with him. Sure, they'd had their rough patches, but the truth was, he liked her - and he knew she liked him. Of course, the main trouble with them had always been that she also liked Sandburg - perhaps a little too much, and now, looking back on it, Jim couldn't help wondering if his subconscious had been reading the body language between them, adding it up and not liking the number it found. After all, there _had_ been that kiss when Blair had gone undercover as Megan's lover. 

He had to force himself not to bristle at the thought. Neither Megan nor anybody outside of Steven knew of his relationship with Blair. And he intended to keep it that way for the moment. 

They bought ice-cream, played the doting couple, and then deliberately discussed whose house they would go to for the night. It had been prearranged that it would be Megan's, but only because Jim had bug-sweeping equipment there. 

He slept on the couch, which was long, deep and comfortable. Megan wanted him to take the spare room but he needed to be within sight of the apartment's door, just in case the goons decided to swoop after all. No way did he want Megan getting in the way if it came to a shoot out - though she'd already voiced her opinion on that possibility. 

He woke the next morning tired, bleached out, but ready. One way or the other, it would be over today. 

* * *

There'd been another fall of snow overnight. It sat six inches deep outside Blair's bungalow and before he set out for breakfast, he took the time to shovel it aside, hoping there wouldn't be more later. It was horribly cold, but for a few minutes the exercise kept him warm. 

Breakfast was a jovial affair. It always was on Sundays. Today there was blueberry pancakes, preserved fruit and yogurt - Blair's favorite. He tucked in, chatting idly, part of his mind - the part that wasn't constantly worried about the silence from Jim - considering what he would do with his day. The week before, Tim had offered to help him paint his bungalow, suggesting they make it more of a home for when Jim could come. Blair had worked hard to maintain that optimism and together, they'd shifted furniture and began preparing the walls. They'd put on two coats in the bedroom by the time they were finished. Today they were hoping to get the sitting room done, leaving the windows for a dry day when there was no threat of snow. 

Blair washed up his plates, finished his coffee and headed outside, his feet shoved into a pair of old snow boots Ralph had given him. With the extra socks he was wearing, they fit perfectly. He had on two pairs of gloves and mittens, a scarf, and wooly hat, three shirts, two fleece pullovers and a huge winter coat that would normally be swimming on him but with his increased bulk, was actually hard to button up. 

But there was the sun shining, and only a few mottled clouds drifting between the treetops as he made his way along the path to the road. He kept going for a while until he reached his favorite spot. He had to brush the new fall of snow from the boulder and put down the small plastic-covered cushion before he could sit, but once done, he was as comfortable as he could be. 

He could see the road from here. See where it would turn around the hillside on its way to the commune. The rest of the view was obscured by trees and the two hills that played the gateway to this little world he had come to love so much. 

It often surprised him that in losing everything he'd ever dreamed about, he'd somehow gained something he'd never considered. These people had become a family to him, and even if he left now, he knew he would always come back here, always be a part of this place. For so many years he'd struggled to write papers, pass exams, write his book about Jim. His passion for anthropology in general, and sentinels in particular had raised eyebrows throughout his career. Even Naomi, bless her misguided soul, had never really understood why he loved the study of people and cultures so much - even as she herself flitted between them. She'd brought him up to believe that love was the most important thing in the world and yet she'd never stuck around anywhere long enough to really experience it. He couldn't help thinking how sad that was. 

He was getting cold sitting here. With the stillness of the morning, he knew he'd be able to hear the sound of the truck a long way off, if it was indeed coming. But he knew that every day it didn't come reduced the odds that it would arrive at all. The longer the silence drew out, the less chance Jim would be able to succeed. The only thing that brought him hope was that Blair hadn't heard from Steven. He knew for certain only that if Jim had been hurt, or worse, killed, Steven would come and tell him. 

So he could only sit here and hope. Be a sentinel for his sentinel, opening his senses wide and letting in the world, becoming a part of something he'd only ever studied from afar. And when he could stand the cold no longer, when his fingers went numb, his toes lost to feeling, he got up, collected his little pillow and turned back home. 

Naomi had been right. It was _all_ about love. 

* * *

'Steven?' 

'Jim? Where are you?' 

'At the PD. What time will you get out of work?' 

'I'm in a meeting till six. Why?' 

'I want you to come here. What are you wearing?' 

'My dark grey suit. Jim, what's going on?' 

'Park in the visitor's car park east of the building. Go in - they'll be expecting you. Go to the basement car park. I'll be waiting for you.' 

'Jim-' 

'Just do it, Steven. It's important.' 

'Okay, I'll see you about 6.30.' 

* * *

Steven was good at following instructions, even if he had no idea what was going on. But he trusted his brother and somewhere in the pit of his stomach, he knew this had to be about Jim's problems and he was more than happy to help if he could. 

The guard at the PD entrance handed him a visitor's ID and waved him through. It didn't take him long to find the stairs down to the basement car park, but he went slowly, looking around him. For all the time he'd spent with Jim over the last couple of years, this was actually the first time he'd been here without actually being involved in a case - much less a case with himself as prime suspect for murder. 

At the bottom of the stairs, he pushed the door open and found Jim waiting for him leaning up against a wall. Jim didn't have a smile for him - but that wasn't surprising. Jim hadn't really smiled at him since Steven had come back from seeing Blair. He wasn't entirely sure Jim would ever forgive him for speaking the truth - but he'd had to say it. After all, Jim was his brother. 

Jim pulled off his baseball cap and PD jacket, handing them to Steven. 'Take off your jacket and put these on. You can put your jacket in the truck.' 

'Are you going to tell me what's going on?' Steven asked, shoving his arms into the sleeves. Though Jim was a bit bigger than him, the fit wasn't so bad. 

'We're going for a drive. You're going to pretend to be me.' Jim began walking through the garage, deftly stepping between squad cars as they drove in and out. He only stopped when he reached the side of his blue and white Ford. Then he turned to Steven, his voice low and firm. 'I'll be on the floor on the passenger side. If you need to talk to me, move your mouth as little as possible and speak in no more than a whisper. Don't worry, I'll be able to hear you. Drive out along Third then north into Baker.' 

Steven frowned, 'Are we going to your place?' 

'Yes. Just before you turn into Prospect, there's a small alley. You can tell the right place because there's a huge dumpster sitting right across it. I want you to stop with the passenger door as close to the end of the dumpster as possible. Make out like you're answering your phone or something. Wait a moment - because I'll be getting out then. Once I'm clear, finish your phone call, turn into Prospect and park outside my place.' 

Jim paused then, glancing around as much out of habit now as anything else. Steven couldn't stop the feeling of slick fear oiling its way around his stomach. He knew he wasn't going to enjoy this one bit - but there was no way he wasn't going to help. 

'Then what?' 

'Then I want you to get out of the truck and make like you're going into the loft - only I want you to notice the dark blue car that will be parked a few spots down the road.' 

'Shit - the guys following you?' 

'Yeah. Stop and decide to go and speak to them. Walk in a straight line, don't run, don't shout out anything to them.' 

'What then?' 

'The rest will be obvious.' Jim opened the driver's door and gestured for him to get in, handing him the keys. 'Just one thing before we go.' 

'What's that?' 

Jim gazed up at him with the kind of look he reserved for rapists, child molesters and wife-beaters. 'You don't know anything about Blair. Nothing. You've met him a couple of times, that's all. You have no idea where he is and if you never see him again, that's fine by you. Not one more word than that, clear?' 

Not afraid to admit he was intimidated, Steven nodded. 'Clear.' 

Jim stalked around the truck, opened the passenger door and folded himself into the fortunately-generous space on the floor. He tugged the door shut and Steven started the engine. 'Remember, don't talk unless you have to and if you do, whisper.' 

Steven turned the truck out of its parking space, through the garage and out into the street. He turned straight onto Third, spending a little time getting used to handling the truck. He hadn't been in something this big since he was a kid. Still he kept his eyes on the road, but as he turned into Baker, he glanced in the mirror. 

'I think I can see the car. About three back. Is that good?' 

'That's good. Keep going.' 

He glanced down a moment, but Jim had his eyes closed, obviously listening and Steven did no more to distract him. 

The drive towards Prospect seemed endless, though in reality, even with the traffic, it took no more than half an hour. He saw the dumpster and alley in plenty of time to reach for his phone. 'Get ready. I'm about to stop.' 

Jim said nothing as Steven pulled up by the dumpster. But in the few seconds Steven pretended to have a phone call, Jim was out and had vanished down the alley. Steven waited a few moments longer, shut down his phone and pulled back into the traffic. The car was still behind him, though he had no idea whether they'd seen Jim get out or not. 

He had no time to ponder the question. He turned left into Prospect and found a parking space only a few yards from the door of 852. He paused again, slowly getting out of the truck, keeping his head down, pulling out his phone and holding it to his ear. He had no idea how long Jim would need, but he gave him a few moments extra, just in case. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of the car pulling in and decided it was time. 

He folded up his phone, and with his heart thumping in his chest, he looked up, did a deliberate double take at the car and began walking towards it, staying on the road just in case they decided to try and drive away. He could see the faces of the two men inside it, staring at him in horror as he stared back in what he hoped was determination. He could even hear them yelling at each other, the words coming to him over the traffic as he got closer. He was almost at the car as he heard: 

'What the hell is he doing? Wait, that's not-' 

And then Steven heard the click of a gun, saw a blur of movement from the right - and abruptly the guys in the car shut their mouths as they turned to see Jim on the other side, his gun pressed up against the temple of the passenger. 

'No, he's not, I am,' Jim said levelly. 'That's Steven, my brother. Man, you guys have been on this job too long if you fell for one of the oldest tricks in the book. Oh, and keep your hands where I can see them.' 

Steven deliberately moved a little closer. He wasn't armed, but he wanted to make it look like he was and hope the guy on his side would make that assumption while Jim did what he had to do. 

'This isn't going to change anything, Ellison,' the driver said, looking smug but a little uneasy around the edges. 'You've shown your hand now, just as we knew you would.' 

'On the contrary, it's going to change everything. Now I want you to get on the phone to your boss. Tell him I want to see him here, now. He has fifteen minutes.' 

'Or what?' 

Jim smiled - and Steven had to be honest, that smile scared the shit out of him. 'Or he's going to be very, very unhappy with you. Do it.' 

The two men exchanged a look but the driver gave in and gingerly, letting Jim see his every move, he reached into his jacket and pulled out his cell. He punched two buttons and got through quickly. 'Saunders. You'd better get down here now. Ellison's apartment. We have a problem. No, now. Yes, sir.' 

He cut the connection and turned back to Jim. 'He's pissed.' 

'But is he coming?' 

'Yeah, he's coming. Look, Ellison, I don't know what you hope to achieve with all this.' 

'Good. Now shut up. If there's one thing I can't stand it's idle, pointless chatter. Puts me in a real bad mood.' 

The man glared at Jim but turned his gaze back to the front, his partner doing the same. Steven took his eyes away from them long enough to glance at Jim. All he got was a minute nod. For lack of further instructions, Steven took the cap off, ran his fingers through his hair and leaned against the side of the car, his gaze steadily on the hands of the driver. Jim didn't move from his position, though he kept his gun shielded from view by his body. But it was dark, and the street lights were far enough away to stop this scene from looking suspicious. 

Steven refused to look at his watch, but his own internal clock insisted that it must have been at least two hours before a light coloured car finally turned into Prospect and pulled up beside them - though it couldn't have been more than twenty minutes. 

'Park,' Jim ordered. The other car pulled into a space in front and Jim turned back to his two captives. 'Hand my brother your weapons, slowly and carefully.' 

One by one, Steven was handed guns which, for want of something better, he put into his jacket pockets where the weight and general lumpiness of them gave him a constant reminder of the seriousness of this situation. Then Jim got the two men out of the car and walked them ahead of him as they moved to intercept Saunders. Steven stayed two steps behind Jim, doing his best to look as intimidating and determined as his brother. The only experience he had at this was numerous board meetings - oh, and repeated watchings of Lethal Weapon movies. He could only hope it was enough. 

'Ellison, what the hell are you doing with my men?' Saunders instantly went on the attack. He was as tall as Jim, and wore a long black coat, his hands shoved into the pockets. Steven was sure he was more than well armed. 

'Let's step inside shall we? Don't want any innocent bystanders getting injured.' 

'You're insane, Ellison.' But Saunders didn't argue. He probably figured he was in a better position to overpower Jim inside the building where there'd be no witnesses. 

Jim followed the three men into the entrance hall, gesturing for the first two to keep their hands up and stand by the wall. He then turned to Steven and said, 'Cover them.' 

Steven was actually pretty pleased with himself for not blinking and blurting out - 'Fuck, are you _kidding_ me?' Instead, he gave a sharp nod, pulled out one of the guns from his pocket and held it loosely at his side; a clear warning was hopefully all he would need. 

Jim had already turned back to Saunders. 'Now, I want you to tell me what the fuck you think you're doing hounding me like a criminal.' 

'I don't have to answer to you, Ellison.' 

'Actually, you do. You were behind that bogus investigation that nearly wrecked my career and now you've had these two and numerous others following me for the last three months, bugging my phone, taking photos of me in the bathroom and generally trying their best to piss me off. Now tell me what the fuck you want!' 

Saunders gave Jim a measuring look, eventually turning the same on Steven. Finally he nodded, as though he couldn't find a good reason not to push things along in this manner. 'Okay, I'll tell you what I want. I want proof that you're a sentinel. And then I want you to come work for me.' 

'Oh, man are you guys still on that shtick?' 

'Come on, Ellison. Your little hippy wannabe partner is an anthropologist - not a writer of fantasy fiction! It's obvious he defrauded himself to protect you, so you could go on being a dumb city cop - which is a waste of resources when you could be doing much more important work.' 

Jim shook his head in disbelief, 'I don't believe you guys. Basically, what you're saying is, you _don't_ have any evidence at all, do you? You've made my life hell for what, six months - based on an _assumption_ , is that it?' When Saunders didn't answer, Steven expected Jim to push - but instead, he laughed. 'Man, are you in deep shit.' 

It was the laugh that unsettled both Saunders and his men. 'You're hiding something, Ellison, and I'll get you in the end.' 

'Maybe, I just don't think you're going to get what you want.' Jim laughed again, and, confused as he was, Steven couldn't help hoping that this was all going according to Jim's plan - though he did wish Jim had been a little more explicit about what his role was supposed to be. 

'So you want to know what I'm hiding, eh?' Jim asked mildly, lowering his gun as he did so. He glanced at the two agents, then nodded as if to himself. 'Okay, I'll show you since you asked so nicely. Come on, this way' With that, he headed towards the stairs. 

In his appointed role as general factotum, Steven put the gun back in his pocket and followed the others up the stairs until the reached the third floor. By that time, Jim had already opened the door to his apartment and was ushering the others inside. He didn't spare a glance for Steven, so once inside, he shut the door and took up a position with his back up against it, like a watchdog guard he'd seen in countless Bogart movies. There was just enough in him that was not scared shitless to think that was a little funny. The rest was still watching Jim. 

Jim put his gun into his holster, and stood in the middle of the living room, his arms wide. 'Welcome to my home, gentlemen. You wanted to search the place? Well, go ahead.' 

'What's the point? We're not going to find anything.' 

'Well, you won't if you don't look. More to the point, you need to know what to look _for_ ' 

When Jim didn't say anything more, Saunders simply stared at him, then eventually nodded to his men. 'Do it.' 

Steven watched in silence as the two agents took opposite sides of the room, pulling books off the shelves, opening cupboards, lifting cushions off the couches. After about twenty minutes of silent searching, one of the agents pulled out a video box and frowned down at it. Sensing something, Saunders walked across to snatch it out of his hand. 

Saunders took one look then frowned. 'What's this? Fag porn?' 

Jim said nothing, his expression utterly unreadable. Saunders tossed the video to his agent and grunted. 'Upstairs. The bedroom.' 

Saunders followed his men but Jim remained below, straightening up the things the intruders had disturbed - but in a leisurely manner. Steven thought it wise he remain by the door, out of the way. 

This search took a lot less time, bringing Saunders stomping down the stairs with a handful of magazines he threw onto the table. Steven didn't have to look very hard to see the covers - but a glance was all he cared for. 

Saunders had obviously had enough and stormed up to Jim. 'So, Ellison, you fuck guys, big deal. You're a fucking pervert - that doesn't mean you're not a sentinel.' 

'You're missing the point,' Steven heard himself say, then hid his surprise at his own temerity. Fortunately, Jim barely glanced at him and he could only assume that meant he was supposed to continue. 'Jim's a cop. Gay cops don't live long.' 

'So he doesn't come out of his little closet. So what?' 

Steven took a big chance, but knowing how thorough his brother was made him bold. He didn't believe for one minute Jim hadn't thought this through very carefully. 'Who do you think Jim was fucking? Who else could he fuck? You think Sandburg lived here because Jim _liked_ supporting a penniless grad student?' 

Saunders began shaking his head. 'You're shitting me. You were porking Sandburg all along? That doesn't explain your arrest rate, your conviction rate, and how it jumped the moment he started riding with you.' 

'No, it doesn't,' Jim agreed. 'That was all due to something you've all overlooked in your desperation to make me out to be some kind of freak. I got better at my job because of Sandburg's skills as an anthropologist. Because _he_ was good at doing my job as well. Sure, I was fucking him. He couldn't afford the rent, I couldn't afford to date guys openly. We had a system that worked.' 

'Until he tried to pass off his book as a work of fact rather than fiction.' Steven added quietly. 

'Exactly.' Jim nodded, still keeping his eyes on his prey. 'This, however, is _not_ a work of fiction.' He reached under the couch and retrieved a large manila envelope. He opened it in front of Saunders, tossing one large glossy photo after another onto the table, eventually covering the porn magazines. Steven got a good look at the photos, nameless faces sitting in cars, number plates, agents taking telephoto shots probably of Jim as he went about his daily life. More shots of tiny electronic bugs he'd found in parts of the loft, as well as the PD. One page of evidence after another, ending with photos of Saunders himself, deep in conversation with a man Steven couldn't name immediately, but recognized anyway. A major crime figure very wanted by the police in at least ten states. All the photos were date and time stamped. 

Saunders simply stared at the photos. Jim let him dangle on the hook for a few minutes, then reeled him in. 'Tell me again how I'm wasted as a police detective?' 

His face suffused with red, Saunders glared at Jim. 'This doesn't prove anything! That's just a few useless photos. You don't scare me.' 

'Mannighan does, though. Your boss - your actual boss. A man who knows nothing about your surveillance of me, nor the reasons behind it. And why? Because you haven't been working for the Agency on this, have you?' 

Steven could see the two agents glancing at each other, unable to hide their sudden discomfort. But Jim hadn't finished with any of them. 'You wanted to know what I was hiding, but the trouble is, you're just too blind to see it. Truth is, Sandburg shafted me with that book, almost ruined my life. It was Captain Banks' idea to set Sandburg up at the Academy, mostly because he wanted his department solve rate to stay high. I went along with it because I had to. But then Sandburg starts all this bullshit about being in love with me. I mean, what did he think I was I going to do, marry him?' 

Saunders frowned, lifting his chin. 'So you kicked him out.' 

'Damned straight I did.' 

'Knowing full well he could show his evidence to the world as payback.' 

In exasperation, Jim spread his arms wide. 'Don't you get it? That book was a fantasy he wrote about me! Because he _wanted_ it to be true. He wanted me to declare my undying love for him. The kid was on another planet. Get it through you're head, will you? There _is_ no evidence. If there was, _why_ would I risk throwing him out?' 

When Saunders didn't answer, Jim collected all the photos together and slid them back into the envelope. 'That's your copy.' He waited for Saunders to take the envelope and look up at him. 'I was a Ranger, I worked Black Ops. If you don't get the fuck out of my life, every dirty secret I know about you and the CIA will be published on a dozen major news websites around the world within twenty-four hours. These photos will headline them. I know where a lot of bodies are hidden, Saunders - and some of those belong to you, personally. If I see _anybody_ on my tail for the rest of my life, I'll assume you're behind it and publish. If I disappear, or if anything happens to anybody - including Sandburg - then I publish. Either way, you're up to your ears in shit. Time you started digging.' 

Steven found he was holding his breath and had to swallow hard. 

'You fags should all be shot!' Saunders grunted. With a gesture at his men, he stormed out of the apartment. His men scrambled after him, leaving Steven to wonder what he was supposed to do with their weapons. 

In the silence that followed, Jim turned his back on Steven and returned to tidying up the living room. 'Leave the guns on the table. Make sure the safeties are on.' 

'Sure,' Steven cleared his throat. 'Er, how do I do that exactly?' 

* * *

Jim went straight to the cupboard under the sink and pulled out a black trash bag. He headed straight to the video shelves and collected all the porn, remembering to take out the video he'd left in the machine as set dressing. He turned then and gathered all the magazines into the bag before tying it up. He wasn't sure what he was going to do with it all, but if he took it back to the adult shop, he was pretty sure they'd take it off his hands. 

Once he was done, he headed upstairs, putting things back into place, tidying the bed, replacing belongings into drawers, knowing full well his hands needed to keep busy, needed to somehow clean the loft of the mess he'd made of his life, the mess those men had made of it. Blair would call it some kind of purification ritual, and he'd be right. But that didn't stop Jim. 

With everything as pristine as it could be without actual scrubbing, he came downstairs and stopped when he realized Steven was standing there, watching him. He'd forgotten his brother was still there, had assumed he'd be gone by now - especially after having had to witness that 'evidence' spread out in front of him. 

'You can go now,' he said levelly, not wanting to be rude considering Steven had been a big help. 'It's all over. I'm just going to clean up, make sure there aren't any more bugs and stuff.' 

Steven blinked a moment, then looked around the loft, appearing a little lost. 'So, that's it?' 

'Yep.' Jim headed into the kitchen and pulled out the spray cleaner and cloth. He'd mop too, once Steven had left. In fact, he had no idea how much cleaning he'd have to do before he could face spending the night here again. 

'Won't they come back?' 

'I suppose it's a possibility - but with what I have on them combined with my 'version' of the truth, I doubt it.' He began scrubbing the stove top. 

'So, er, what about, you know. What about Blair?' 

'What about him?' 

Steven moved to stand on the other side of the counter, deliberately in his field of vision. 'All that upstairs, the... magazines, and the videos, that was all ...' 

'Set dressing.' Jim grunted, wanting to get the details out as flatly as possible, so Steven would be on his way. 'Blair and I have only slept together once, three weeks ago, and it wasn't here.' He finished with the stove and began on the counter surfaces, the exterior of the fridge and the cupboard doors. The fridge was already empty and cleaned on the inside. 

'You went to see him?' 

Steven's voice came out sounding like a pleased whisper, but Jim still couldn't look at him. It was just too hard to maintain a relationship with his brother after all the things Steven had said to him about Blair. So yes, it _had_ spurred him on to move when he might have made the mistake of believing all the crap would go away on its own, but that didn't mean Steven's cynicism had to be something Jim liked about him. 

Steven said something else, but Jim wasn't paying attention. 'What?' 

'I said, did you go and see him that weekend when you disappeared?' 

'Yes. Look, Steven, I know the adrenalin is still running high, and I appreciate your help, but really, I'd just rather be alone right now, okay?' 

'Sure, I'll go in a minute, Jim. Just answer me this - what are you going to do about Blair?' 

'That's none of your business. You've already made your position very clear. Now, you're entitled to your opinion, but I don't share it. Can we please leave it at that?' 

'Jim,' Steven's voice gentled and he came around the counter, getting in Jim's way. 'I just want to know. Now that this is all over, are you going to him?' 

Jim finally looked up, surprised at the concern in his brother's eyes. 'No.' 

'Why not?' 

'Because it would be just like Saunders to leave a tail on me and follow me there - and then the whole gamble would have been a waste of time. I won't risk Blair no matter what.' Jim returned to his cleaning as Steven stepped back. 'Now, please, Steven, let me get on with this.' 

'Okay, I'll leave you to it. I'm glad I could help. I hope you do go see Blair, and soon. But you did good today. You fought hard. I'm proud of you, Jim.' 

Jim wasn't really listening as he wiped the last counter top down. Then he froze, something not quite right in his cleaning ritual. He turned around slowly, stopping his brother at the door. 'What do you mean, you're proud of me? You said you...' 

The words died in his throat as another, unexpected thought took off at a tangent. He closed his eyes, unable to believe what he was hearing - and yet, having no trouble at all. When he looked back at his brother, he swore. 'You bastard. You played me. That was all bullshit what you said.' 

An ear splitting grin greeted this statement. 'Yep.' Steven pushed his hands into his jacket pockets. Jim wasn't sure it was possible to look any more smug than his brother did at that moment. 

'Fuck. I haven't been played like that for a long, long time.' 

'Well,' Steven gave half a shrug, full of feigned humility, 'I like to think nobody's ever played you like I can.' 

'I can't believe you did that! You sounded so ... shit you really sounded like you meant all those awful things you said about Blair. All that crap about him stringing me along, and I thought you ... Fuck!' 

Steven was already laughing. 'Jim, I hate to be the one to tell you this, but you're not the only one who inherited Dad's killer instinct.' 

'You little shit.' And then because he was relieved, and then relieved some more, and because for a while there, he'd thought he'd have to lose his brother all over again, he pulled Steven into a hug, slapping his back hard. His voice was heavy as he murmured, 'Thank you. You helped. Big time.' 

'You're welcome, Jim.' 

They separated, grinning at each other like a pair of idiots. Jim glanced back at his cleaning and discovered that he didn't really need to do any more. 'What say we blow this joint and grab a beer?' 

'Sounds good to me. Only,' he glanced down at the bag by the door. 

'Oh, yeah, Stevie, I'm... sorry you had to see all that.' 

'Just, you know, TMI. If you and Blair ever stay over at my place, I'm wearing earplugs, okay? Nothing personal you understand.' 

'Steven, there isn't going to be any-' 

'Look, Jim, here's my plan. We go grab a beer and a meal - 'cause I don't know about you, but I'm starving after all that terror.' 

'Terror?' 

'Jim, really you have no idea how scary you are, do you?' 

'That's your plan is it?' 

'I'm getting there, don't rush me. So after dinner, I pack a small bag, fly down to Sacramento and drive out to see Blair, just to let him know everything's okay and that you'll be down soon. What do you say, Jim?' 

Jim met his gaze for a few moments, then looked at the bag, the guns that he'd have to lock up before they left. He looked around the loft, thinking of how empty it had felt the moment Blair had left and these months living at Steven's place, when he hadn't really missed his own home and how odd that was considering how attached he thought he'd been to it. 

He turned back to his brother. 'I appreciate what you're trying to do, Steven. But... you know, if they are still watching me, and I head out to see Blair, they'll have proof that everything I told them here was a lie.' 

'Jim,' Steven frowned, stepping closer. 'You love him. He loves you. You've already found away around all this other shit. You can take that one step further. Don't let these guys have the last word. Go and see Blair, or at least let me go and see him for you.' 

Jim looked away, his throat suddenly constricted. 'I can't, Steven. I just ... not yet, okay? Just give me a couple of days. I, er, need to do some thinking.' 

Steven nodded slowly, understanding. 'Okay. Let's go get that beer - and do you want to get rid of that stuff on the way?' 

'It can wait until tomorrow.' Jim picked up the guns, removed the clips and stowed them in the lock box under the sink. Then, with his hand on Steven's shoulder, he headed out of the loft. 

He didn't look back as he left the building. 

* * *

'So that's it, then?' Simon stood at the end of his meeting table and stared down at the weapons and ammunition clips Jim had placed there. 

'Yeah,' Jim nodded, his gaze in the same place. 'As far as I can tell, they're gone.' 

'But for how long, that's the real question.' 

'Who knows? I could relax my guard now only to find them on my tail in a month.' 

'True.' Simon looked up, 'But you do have that stuff, don't you? The photos and all that Black Ops information you threatened him with? That was all real, wasn't it?' 

'Unfortunately, yes. And I'll use it - I just don't want to be in the position where I have to, or the game will already be lost.' 

Simon sighed and headed back to his desk. He poured himself a cup of his newest coffee blend and placed the mug on his desk. 'So it's over. Really over. Doesn't seem real. Not after seven months. It's been a hell of a ride.' 

'Tell me about it.' 

'And what about Sandburg?' 

Jim shrugged, his gaze drifting out to the bullpen. 

'Are you sure about this, Jim? You're not going to regret it in a month, or a year?' 

Jim paused a moment, so many images of Blair in the bullpen acting like ghosts on his memory, tossing the air about him as though it was trying to tell him something. 'Blair said we were already living on borrowed time. He knew it was all coming to an end. He was right, but the rest of us, we didn't want to think it could, did we? But everything comes to an end some time. The trick is learning when to fight, and when to stop fighting. Blair knew that all along. That's why he left.' 

'Shit, Jim, I sure hope you're right about this.' 

Jim turned and faced Simon squarely. 'I am, Simon. I am.' 

* * *

Blair stood at the side of the room, holding his drink and watching the little pageant going on at the front, some of his own pupils taking part. In this part of the world, Thanksgiving was a down-to-earth affair, where the contribution the native Americans had given the Pilgrim Fathers during their first awful years in the new land was recognized for what it was - the prelude to a sacrifice nobody at that time could have imagined. 

There'd been songs and little plays all through the day, and this was the last of them, a work of imagination, where the Pilgrim Fathers themselves (along with a few Pilgrim Mothers who'd also been conveniently written out of history) actually offered homage to those who had guaranteed their survival. At the end, applause erupted around the room, parents going forward to congratulate their children before taking them into the common room where there were cakes, drinks and all sorts of fruit and sweets. 

And though this celebration was so different, it still didn't stop him remembering last Thanksgiving with Jim, and with the memory came the pain. Sure, he could live this life without Jim, he just didn't _want_ to. He wanted Jim with him, safe and alive. There was a part of him that would never rest until that day. 

'Did you bring your guitar with you?' Tom appeared at his side, eager to get started with the real party. 

'Yeah, it's in the corner,' Blair nodded with a smile. He and Tom now had a running competition on who could play the most complicated riffs. It was a tough race, but it provided their audience with plenty of entertainment. Of course, he didn't admit that he'd been practicing for the last two weeks and was about ready to blow Tom out of the water. 

The room was filling up with people now the children had finally left. Chairs and tables were moved around, decorations added to, bowls of punch handed around. The atmosphere bristled with laughter and talk and Blair knew it would be a challenge trying to play over the top of it. Still, he and Tom pulled up chairs on the small platform in the corner, counted themselves into the first song, and away they went. 

Almost immediately, the people nearest them turned to listen, pulling up chairs or simply sitting on the floor cushions that made up for the fact that there were more people here than furniture. By the second song, Blair was in the groove, already throwing down the gauntlet to Tom while Peter, a musician from way back, nodded approvingly at what Blair was doing, and how Tom was responding. 

The hours slipped away then, as he let himself get lost in the music, taking him to a place where the air was fine and sweet, and Jim was always with him. It was the best place in the world because nobody could touch it, and nobody could ever take it away from him. And he could go there whenever he wanted, stay as long as he liked. He knew the map of this place like the back of his hand. It was his home. 

When his fingers started to get stiff and the pads tender and sore, he called a break, happily handing his guitar over to another volunteer and the party continued. He made for the punch bowl, poured himself a cup and drank deeply. 

'Hey, Blair.' 

He looked up to find Peter approaching, Ralph by his side as usual. They had an arm around each other and grins on their faces. 

'Hey, guys.' 

'I tell you,' Peter continued, 'whatever you decide to do with the rest of your life, don't ever buy into the whole thing about being a professional musician. Not that you're not good enough, 'cause I think you could be.' 

'Then why?' 

'After the first rush, it stops being fun like it is now. Now, nobody gives a damn if you play a few wrong notes, and the competition is entirely friendly.' 

'Yeah,' Blair grinned, 'you should try telling Tom that.' 

Peter laughed and shook his head, 'I'm telling you 'cause I know you'll listen. Tom's a different matter altogether.' 

'Don't listen to him,' Ralph said, squeezing his lover closer. 'He's never forgiven the music world for not recognizing the genius of his talent and making him a big star.' 

'Yeah, but if it had, I wouldn't have met you, would I?' Peter leaned forward and gently bit Ralph's ear lobe, making the older man laugh. In return, Ralph drew him in closer and kissed him on the mouth, hard, making his point. 

For a moment, Blair watched their gentle bickering with a smile on his face - but the kiss cut through him like ice and suddenly he couldn't breathe. Suddenly, all he could think about was what these guys had, and what he might never have with Jim. Suddenly, missing Jim filled him, dragging him down so hard and so fast that he couldn't even find words to whisper to himself. 

His eyes blurred, but he wasn't left to his desperation long. Strong hands tugged at his elbow, guiding him into a quiet corner of the room, where he could turn his face to the wall and gulp air into lungs that no longer wanted to work. 

'Hey, Blair,' Ralph murmured, his arm around Blair's shoulder, the other gently rubbing his forearm. 'Come on, just breathe for me, buddy, okay?' 

'Can't,' Blair gasped through the agony in his chest, 'can't do this any more. It's too much.' 

'I know, buddy, I know.' 

'So scared all the time. Afraid he's not coming ... that they'll never let him go ... that ... that he's dead ...' 

His throat closed up then, as Ralph stood behind him, shielding him from the rest of the room, his arms wrapped around Blair, just holding him as he shook. 

'Can't stay here ... he needs me ... need him ...can't stand this ... this ...' The pain swept through him, like a gale force wind, knocking down things he'd thought were rock solid. All this time, all these months, the worry, the waiting, the not knowing - all of it meant nothing if Jim didn't survive. He'd thought he was doing so well with holding on, keeping his patience going, leaning on these friends who'd offered so much in trying to fill the void in his life - but the terrible truth was, that void could only ever be filled by Jim. But Jim wasn't here. Perhaps never would be. 

'Oh, god,' he gasped, blinking hard, trying desperately to stop the tears he needed to shed - but he couldn't let them go. If he did, he'd be giving up hope entirely, admitting to himself and those around him that he never expected to see Jim again - and that was too much. Way too much for him to even contemplate. 

So he pulled in one breath after the other, hauling himself together with a harsh and bloody hand, using only a little of the strength Ralph was lending him. It was the only way he'd be able to get out of this room and away to some place where it didn't matter that he was breaking apart. 

'Hey, Blair,' Ralph murmured, 'don't sweat it, okay? We all have our little meltdowns now and then. Just you keep breathing.' With that, he loosened his hold a little, allowing Blair to decide when he could once more stand on his own. 

But the point was, Blair no longer _wanted_ to stand on his own. All his life, he'd cherished his independence, his ability to adapt and absorb; his innate sense of who he was defining the boundaries of his own personal island. His living independence had always been one of his most loved achievements - and yet here he was, stomping it under his feet for the worthless and empty token it was. 

He didn't want independence any more. He didn't want to be proud of his ability to run his own life the way he wanted it, taking it in whatever direction appealed to him at the time. That was the path Naomi had taught him, of self-fulfillment, self-determination, of being all he could be - because it _wasn't_ all he could be. 

Eight months ago he'd come here to this commune, knowing they would take him in, perhaps even subconsciously knowing they would embrace him, no matter his mistakes. And without even realizing it, he in turn had embraced them and this beautiful hilly forest as though it was the home he'd never had. And he'd loved working here, loved helping out with the gardens, the school, building and painting and whatever other jobs that came his way. He loved the fact that everything he did had a purpose and consequence to others, a meaning. 

Sure, he could deal with this pain, cope with day after dreadful day of missing Jim, carve himself out a worthwhile and enjoyable life in this place - but he could do so with only half of his soul, giving himself only half a life. Because the other half was with Jim, and always would be, no matter where he was. And if he couldn't belong with Jim, he would never really belong anywhere. 

He didn't want - or need - independence any more. What he wanted was to be able to share his life, to join it to Jim's. To be part of something greater than himself, than anything he could ever be on his own. 

Anything else was utterly meaningless. 

He straightened up, and Ralph let him go, stepping back to give Blair the space he needed. But Blair didn't - couldn't - wallow any longer. 

'How're doin'?' Ralph murmured, waiting until Blair turned before giving him an encouraging smile. 

'I'm okay,' Blair didn't have a smile in him any more, but he did nod, easily meeting his friend's gaze. Peter stood behind Ralph, his expression utterly devoid of pity, and full instead, of hard understanding. 'Thanks, guys. I'm sorry I wigged out on you there.' 

'Hey, look,' Peter offered, 'you didn't break any plates, and I don't have a black eye, so no harm done, right?' 

Blair chose to take Peter's path out. 'Black eye?' 

Ralph waved a hand, dismissing the question. 'He's exaggerating as usual. He hit himself on the head with a hammer, if you must know.' 

Blair simply snorted with disbelief and shook his head. 'Look, um, thanks guys, but I think I might head off to bed.' 

'Why don't you stay a little while longer. There's still plenty of party left.' 

'Yeah, but I think I need to be on my own for a while.' 

'Sure,' Ralph nodded, squeezing his shoulder. 'Just ... you know, try to take it in little bites, okay? They're easier to swallow.' 

Blair had no trouble understanding the older man's advice. He nodded once more, then turned for the door, part of his mind still numb, exhausted, grieving and desolate - the rest wondering where his coat had got to. 

He didn't get far however. Heather approached him with a smile on her face, which dropped a little when she got a good look at his. Yes, he did need to get some time alone if his mood was that readable. 

'Oh, Blair, there you are. You played wonderfully tonight. Absolutely inspired.' 

'Um, thanks.' 

'You're not staying?' 

'Nah, not this time. Feel like an early night.' He paused, seeing her gaze soften. 'Just missing Jim a little, that's all. I'll see you tomorrow.' 

'Of course, only ...' 

He turned back to her, 'What?' 

Heather glanced over his shoulder, frowning slightly. 'There's somebody here to see you. He's waiting outside.' 

Blair stared at her. He blinked, unable to absorb what she was saying. Almost immediately, his heart began to hammer in his chest, and his hearing went fuzzy. He couldn't ask, didn't want to ask, was utterly unable to ask if it was Steven, terrified to ask if it was Steven because if it was, that meant, fuck that would mean that Jim was ... was... 

'Shit.' 

He turned for the door, darting between people with an inaudible apology on his lips, gaze focused on nothing and everything, desperate to be rid of the crowd so that if he had to do this, if he really had to, then he could at least do it in private. 

Beyond panic now, he pushed the door open and stepped outside, pulling it closed behind him. He could see nobody for a moment. The snow was thick on the ground, but the path had been shoveled and he moved along it a little, light from the hall and the common room leeching out, letting him see. 

And then he did see. A tall man, in a long black coat, staring up at the treetops above, and the stars beyond that. 

Blair couldn't breathe. 

The man turned and Blair's heart leapt into his throat. 'Jim?' 

Jim blinked a moment, then his voice came out rough and unsteady. 'Chief.' Then in two strides they were together, arms wrapped around each other, words they'd never been able to say before whispered into shoulders, muffled, unheard but known anyway. 

Blair knew he was shaking and didn't give a shit. He just held on and held on, until he had to look up, to see Jim's face, to see his eyes glistening. They simply stared at each other for a moment, then their mouths joined, touching, tasting, gentle and hard, soft and sweet. And then, before they could move, the kiss deepened, taking them back to themselves, back to their moments of peace in the few stolen hours they'd shared. 

Blair gradually stopped shaking as they broke apart and breathed. His hands rose to Jim's face, touching it, getting to know it again. 'Oh, Jim. I thought... I thought you were ...' 

'I know, Chief. I was going to call, but I couldn't stop long enough and then when I did try, when I got close enough, the hills stopped me getting a signal and I thought the snow would prevent me...' Jim pulled him close again and Blair simply closed his eyes, letting the moment soak into him as deeply as it could go. 

There were long minutes when neither of them moved. Then suddenly, an explosion of noise buffeted them as the hall door opened behind Blair. He pulled away from Jim to see who it was - only then realising he had come out in only his shirt sleeves - and it was damned cold out here. 

It was Heather. She had his coat in her hands and a hopeful smile on her face. Blair wiped his eyes, past blushing in front of this woman. He put his arm around Jim's waist, felt Jim's arm curl around his shoulder, more than one kind of warmth flowing into him. 

'Jim, this is Heather. Heather, this... this is Jim.' He glanced up at the man he loved, adding. 'He's here.' 

Heather laughed a little, and replied, 'Yes, he is, isn't he. Jim, I'm so pleased to meet you at last. You don't know how we've longed for you to visit us. Will you come inside and have a drink? You must be freezing after your long trip.' 

'I, er, that'd be very nice. Blair?' Jim turned to Blair, not knowing these people, not sure whether Blair would rather they go somewhere quiet first. 

But Blair already knew what he wanted to do first. He took Jim's hand, 'Let's go in for a while. I'd like you to meet my friends.' 

The warmth in Jim's eyes made him forget that it was freezing outside. So they went in, and Blair took him around the room, plying him with punch, taking his coat off, introducing him to people, making sure he ate, even playing a few songs for him together with half the commune's best musicians. He was asked to sing, but he couldn't. He didn't dare. He was too full. Overflowing, in fact, and it would have been painfully obvious to everyone who saw him that he had eyes only for Jim, and Jim for him. 

And as he played, Blair offered up his own thanks giving. 

End Part Seven 

* * *

Part Eight 

It had started to snow again an hour later as Blair led Jim out of the hall and into the night. It was late, and it was freezing and though they didn't have far to go, he still paused long enough to wrap his scarf around his neck. Jim was waiting for him, his gaze going up again. 

'Man, this sky is clear here.' 

'Yeah, isn't it? I keep meaning to drive into town and buy a really good telescope.' 

'It's the perfect place for it.' 

Jim took a deep breath then, and Blair watched him in profile, feasting his eyes, in no hurry to move faster than one moment at a time. 

'Air's clean, too, even with the wood smoke. I can't get any chemical ... actually, the only thing I'm getting is the residue from the truck's exhaust.' 

Blair just smiled, 'You bring any luggage?' 

'Sure,' Jim nodded, waving in the general direction of the reception room. 'I left it in there. Wasn't sure how long it would take me to find you.' 

'Let's go.' Blair led Jim down the path towards the reception room. 'I just hope you brought something warm to sleep in.' 

'Warm to sleep in?' Jim murmured, pushing the door open just enough to pull his overnight bag out. He swung it over his shoulder. 'I thought maybe, well, you know.' 

He made a vague hand gesture between them and Blair chuckled. 'Oh, yeah, that too.' He turned back onto the path, making a bee-line for his bungalow. To his left, the noises of the Thanksgiving celebration rumbled on without them. 'But you gotta remember, Jim, the Oregon mountains are pretty damned cold in winter.' 

Blair made a turn in the path and paused in front of his bungalow. Jim stared at it, able to see it perfectly well despite the darkness. The bungalow was actually a small log cabin, built from timbers felled in the clearing of this section of land. But the design was unique to this commune, and the result of more clever work by the members. The outer layer of logs was sealed with a clay-mud combination, and then a natural tar to fill in the gaps and make sure it was waterproof. Inside, there were two layers of wattle and daub insulation with a thin layer of insulating air between them. It was just about the warmest place Blair had ever lived. 

'We going in?' Jim said quietly, once he'd finished looking. 

'Sure, go ahead. We don't lock doors here.' 

'You don't?' It was obvious what Jim was thinking. 

'Nah, we just knock first. Careful, there's a step up, and a light switch on your left.' 

* * *

Jim stepped into the bungalow, dropping his bag by the door. 

'Shoes, Jim. I'll find some slippers for you later. You'll have to do with a pair of my thick socks in the meantime.' 

'Sure, whatever,' Jim murmured, toeing his shoes off before wandering further into the sitting room. 

There was a window on his right and another in the wall in front of him. To his left, the central wall of the cabin was the fireplace, substantial enough to heat a place this size. It shared a wall with the bedroom, taking heat from the hearth into the next room as well - a very efficient design. 

But the design wasn't what made him stop and look. It was the walls, and the colors, and the books and ... well, everything. The walls were a deep rich Aztec ochre, creating a feeling of warmth and light. The windows had been trimmed in dark red, and in front of the fire, a low comfortable couch covered in an Aztec blue throw. There was a mountain of similarly colored cushions, blankets and rugs in the corner, and a desk by the window on his right. On either side of the desk were two tall bookcases stained dark and filled with books that to his eyes now, seemed like old friends. He couldn't stop himself going up to a few of them and touching, remembering how they'd been such a part of Blair's life in Cascade. 

There were masks on the walls here and in the bedroom, where the decor was the same, only the curtains were a different color. The bed was very ... solid looking, very strong, covered in several thick woolen blankets topped by a padded quilt and a knitted throw and appeared more than capable of withstanding the weight of the two of them. It also looked very inviting. 

'Tim helped me with the painting.' Blair called from the sitting room, stirring up the fire and adding extra logs from the tub. 'Heather made the curtains from cloth she dyed herself. Same with the throw rugs and cushion covers.' 

Jim turned to find Blair standing in the doorway, his hands in the back pockets of his jeans. 'Bathroom's through there. You want me to take your coat?' 

'Oh, sure.' Jim had forgotten he still had it on. He took it off and handed it to Blair, his graze dropping to the floor as Blair padded along in Indian slippers, his feet whispering across flat slate decorated by more hand-woven rugs. 

Jim couldn't help it. He had to take a deep, deep breath. As he let his subconscious process the information, he sighed, smiling a little. 

This was home now. This was why the loft had been so easy to leave. 

'You okay, Jim?' 

'Fine. Bathroom through there, you said?' 

'Yep. Coffee?' 

'Sure.' 

By the time Jim got back into the sitting room, Blair had the coffee made and handed him a cup. He took his to the couch and Jim joined him, sitting close enough so their thighs touched. 

'This is weird, isn't it,' Blair said after a few minutes of silence. 

'Yeah, it is,' Jim nodded, taking Blair's hand so he could kiss the back of it. 'We've never really done this before, have we? You know, been an actual couple.' 

Blair grinned at him, leaning in for a soft kiss. 'I think we'll manage somehow.' He took another kiss, this one lasted longer. When he broke off, his eyes drifted over Jim's face, then dropped to his own hands. 'I'm not going to ask how long you can stay. At least, not tonight. I know you're tired, and it's late, but I just want to ...' 

As he swallowed hard, Jim took his coffee cup and put them both on the table. He then gathered Blair into his arms, pressing kisses under his ear, offering comfort, taking some in the concentrated scent he found there. 'It's over, Chief. I'm not running any more. I'm safe, we both are. It's over.' 

At that, Blair nodded a little and just held Jim tighter. It was impossible to miss the trembling of the sturdy body he held, but Jim said nothing else. He'd had to isolate Blair to keep him safe. It was going to take time for them to reconnect again. But that was okay, he was in no hurry. 

He watched the fire spit and crackle as Blair eventually shifted in his arms, turning him so they were lying on the couch, Blair stretched out on Jim's body, his head on Jim's chest, fingers toying with the cloth of Jim's red mountain shirt. 

'Will you tell me about it?' 

'Of course.' 

'Every detail?' 

'Yep.' 

'But not tonight.' 

'No, not tonight.' 

'Okay.' 

'Will you have to work tomorrow?' 

'Well, normally I would, but, well, the guys here, they've been kinda waiting for you to ... well, um...' 

Jim frowned, laughing a little. 'You're blushing!' 

Blair moaned, burying his face under his hands, the movement of his body on Jim's producing all kinds of interesting reactions. 'God, what is it with you! Do you have any idea how many times I've blushed since I kissed you back in Cascade? It's driving me round the bend! Heather says she's got a score card up on her wall. She's in a running competition with Ralph and Peter-' 

'Who are Ralph and Peter? Did I meet them?' 

'Yeah, Peter's the guy who played drums for Van Halen for a while.' 

'Oh, yeah. So why would Ralph and Peter make you blush?' 

'Because of what I had to talk to them about!' 

Jim narrowed his gaze, his arms holding Blair to him, still feeling the heat radiating off the man's face. Now why would talking to Peter and Ralph make Blair blush? 

Oh. 

'And the guys here have been waiting for me to ...' Jim swallowed, feeling the heat rise a little on his own face. 'Come and make an honest man of you?' 

'This is ... well, this is kinda our honeymoon, as far as ... you know... my work goes.' 

For a moment, Jim's brain refused to function, then it kicked back into gear, producing a full flush in his own face. 'This is all, um, a lot more open than I was really prepared for, Chief.' 

Blair twisted to look up at him. 'Does it bother you? I mean, we can drive a couple hours into town and get a motel room or something. They're not trying to make you feel uncomfortable. Quite the opposite. This is all as much for you as me.' 

Jim caressed the side of Blair's face. 'Chief, I'm not uncomfortable. Just ... not used to it yet. I'll be fine. Besides, this is your home and I'd like to get to know it, look around, talk to your friends a little more - unless we're breaking some taboo by leaving our honeymoon suite during the day?' 

Blair chuckled, 'We'll have to if we wanna eat.' 

'Eat?' Jim whispered, watching the smile slip away from his man's face. Blair leaned in then, kissing him deeply and Jim held him close, letting his tongue wander and taste, his hands roam over the strong back, more muscled than it had ever been in Cascade. He let his hands drift down to the denim-clad ass, and felt more muscle there, too. 

And in just a few seconds, the temperature in the bungalow rose by twenty degrees. Blair began to slide sensuously on him, mouth leaving Jim's to drift along his jaw, land against his Adam's apple where a hot slick tongue reached out and laved the area, making Jim hard and desperate with the first two licks. 

'Chief?' 

'Yeah?' Blair's head rose and he gave Jim another quick kiss, this one harder than those before. 'What's wrong?' 

'Nothing,' Jim murmured, 'Just, if we're gonna fuck-' 

'We are.' 

'Okay, though, maybe I should call it making love ...' 

'You can call it what you like as long as you fuck me.' 

Jim laughed a little, lifting Blair so they could both sit up. Without pausing, he cradled Blair's face in his hands, licking that sinful mouth before plunging in with thrusts suggesting he was ready to give Blair whatever he wanted. 'Naked, in bed, Blair. I need to see you, touch you. Take my time over you.' 

Blair's eyes were shut and he gave a shudder of what Jim knew was simple anticipation. He nodded, pulling in his bottom lip. He opened his eyes then. 'Okay. Okay. Um, condoms and lube in the drawer beside the bed. Go get them?' 

'Sure.' 

Jim got up, found the drawer and inside, an unopened box of condoms and a new large tube of water based lube. He also found a couple of well-read erotic novels with pictures of well-cut young men on the front. He smiled. Just out of curiosity, he flipped open the cover of the first one, not surprised to find Ralph's name written inside. 

He shut the drawer and went back to the sitting room, to discover the place changed. Blair had pushed the couch back from the fire a little, removed the coffee table completely and in its place spread out was a thickly padded cotton mattress and a mountain of soft pillows and rugs. Blair was just placing the last down when he saw Jim watching him. 

'You want to catch the lights?' 

'Yeah, okay.' Jim put the condoms and lube on the floor by their bed and switched off all the lights. When he returned, it was to find Blair pulling off his shirt slowly, his body golden and beautiful in the firelight. Jim said nothing, just watched as Blair continued to strip for him, giving Jim plenty of time to drink his fill. They'd been so desperate last time, so needy to actually join their bodies together, they'd had no time to really appreciate and savor, to simply look and Jim had missed that part of the sensory and sensual banquet making love with Blair had become. 

Blair pushed his jeans down, kicking them away, followed by his underwear, revealing a body perfectly defined with muscle, even a little bulky now across the shoulders. The hips were narrow, and the arousal very obvious, ready for Jim. 

He came close, within the circle Blair had created between couch and fire, where it was warm and they could be naked on this winter's night without fear of freezing. Standing before Blair, he pulled off his shirt, then his jeans and underwear, as slowly as Blair, more than turned on by how aroused Blair was to watch him, to see _him_ naked. 

'I don't know,' Blair murmured, 'how long I'm going to last. I've wanted this ... thought about it ...' 

'Me too,' Jim growled, approaching Blair quickly now, pulling him close until their whole bodies touched. He was utterly unable to stop himself caressing Blair's ass then, grinding their hips together. So quickly he was on the edge, staring defeat in the face. 'Maybe we save the um...' 

'Save the savoring for next time?' Blair asked breathlessly. 'Yeah, good idea. Just prepare me and fuck me, okay? Please, Jim? I need you inside me.' 

'Sure, baby,' Jim crooned, taking Blair down to the cushions with him until Blair lay stretched out over him again, allowing his fingers to caress the crack of Blair's ass, pressing in till he found what he was looking for. 

'Baby?' Blair queried, his voice rough with stress, and yet, half laughing. At the same time, he was pushing himself back against Jim's touch, aching for more. 

'Or, you know, babe, or sweetheart,' With his free hand, he fumbled for the lube, but had it snatched from his hands by a trembling and needy Blair who twisted the cap off and covered his fingers in the slick gel. 'Or, let me see, um...' Jim continued, his whole body enveloping Blair's, his skin tingling with his own need, his own desperation to climb inside Blair once more. He pushed his fingers against the guardian, relieved to find there was little resistance, but being careful enough to stretch and prepare just in case. 

He'd learnt a whole bunch of stuff while putting together the 'set dressing' in the loft. 

Blair was kissing his face, pushing back harder against the invasion. 'So my choice is, baby, babe,' he gasped aloud as Jim touched the sweet spot inside him, 'or sweetheart? You're the king of nicknames. I'm the love of your life. Is that the best you can do?' 

Jim pulled his fingers out, rolled them over until Blair laid beneath him, propped up by cushions that made his skin glow, lit by firelight that make him look breathtakingly beautiful. 'I can do love.' 

Blair's eyes lit up and he smiled. Jim cracked open the box of condoms but Blair took it off him, preferring to roll the rubber onto Jim with his own hands. With the addition of a little more lube, Jim laid between Blair's legs, took that mouth again with his own, thrusting and plundering as he positioned himself for a more carnal entry. 

Blair cried out as he was penetrated, arching his back, pressing into Jim's thrust, until Jim was fully sheathed inside him, buried to the hilt - but then Blair froze, his eyes clenched shut, moisture leaking from them from a pain that had nothing to do with his body. He let out a choked grunt, and Jim knew the moment had come. He stayed inside, but paused in his movements and simply pulled Blair to him, cradling him, letting the man's tears join his own as silent sobs accompanied the sizzle and crack of the fire. Each shudder whispered a fear unspoken, each hiss, a pain released. 

He'd been right. They'd had to reconnect before they could start to heal. Jim knew this with every sob from Blair. The flare didn't last long, but the pain it burned away would have lasted a lifetime. As Blair laid back down again, Jim dried his face with tissues Blair had put out earlier, then let Blair do the same for him. 

'I love you,' Blair whispered, his gaze locked on Jim's. 'I love you so much.' 

Jim had to blink hard, 'I love you, too, Chief. So very much.' 

With gentle fingers, he touched Blair's face, kissing him softly, using his tongue to tease Blair's beautiful mouth, his throat, his hard nipples. He pinched and caressed, covering Blair's growing hardness with his hand, plunging his tongue in for another kiss as Blair shifted restlessly beneath him, silently begging for more. His own hardness blossomed again, aching for movement, his need calling out to him in the firelit room. 

He began to move then, pulling out a little, pushing in a little, keeping his gaze on Blair, watching that mouth as the tongue dipped out to wet it, knowing Jim would want to kiss and kiss deeply any moment. And then of course, he _had_ to kiss deeply, knowing that mouth wanted him too. His thrusts sped up as Blair lifted his legs, wrapping them around Jim, gaining more depth, a more erotic angle. This bed of cushions was perfect for fucking, giving them all the support and comfort they could need, letting him pound and pound deeply into Blair, feeling Blair's pleasure mount alongside his own. 

'Yes,' Blair whispered, hands reaching down to pull Jim deeper into him, then to stroke himself, bring himself closer to the edge and then he was groaning, the timbre of his voice a clear warning to Jim, and the very threat of it, of seeing Blair about to come under him was all he needed to tumble over the edge himself, with Blair's gaze on his face, his own twisting up as he then followed close behind, warm splashes hitting Jim's chest as he collapsed down. 

'Good god,' Jim gasped, heart thudding in his ears. 'Definitely honeymoon material.' 

'Yeah,' Blair grunted, breathless, 'and that's only our third fuck. We hardly know each other, sexually I mean. What's it going to be like when we _really_ learn how to press each other's buttons?' 

Jim swallowed to get some moisture back in his mouth, then shifted to withdraw from Blair's body. As he rolled to the side, he took care of the condom and tossed it into the fire. Blair pulled a blanket over them as he snuggled in close. 'Can I just say,' Jim added, still getting his breath back, 'that I really look forward to pressing your button a whole bunch more.' 

The music of Blair's laughter filled the bungalow, and his own, lost for so long, joined it. 

* * *

'Now that wasn't so bad, was it?' Blair grinned as they stepped outside the refectory into the fresh morning air. The sun was shining today, and where it hit the snow, the glare was almost blinding. 

'No, you've got some good cooks. They know how to make real eggs.' 

'Yeah, the food's good - but that's not what I meant, and you know it.' 

Jim smirked and shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his long coat. 'No, it wasn't so bad. No obvious looks, no pointing and giggling, no smug grins, none of your friends sharing wise glances. But tell me, is everybody always that happy to see you in the morning? I don't recall you being that much of a morning person back in Cascade.' 

With a laugh, Blair led Jim along the path to the lookout, walking slowly, breathing in the sharp air. 'Well, okay, so maybe they were a _little_ happy to see me - us - this morning. But in a nice way, right? You didn't feel uncomfortable with everybody knowing?' 

Jim shrugged. 'It's just, you know, not what I expected. But I suppose this relationship is not what I expected either. There were plenty of times in Cascade, on my own, when I did think about it, wondering what would happen if I told people.' 

'Which people?' 

'Well, Simon obviously, the others in MC. And my Dad.' Jim glanced sideways at him. 'I did tell Dad, before I came down here.' 

Blair blinked. 'Wow. What did he say - or do I want to know?' 

'Actually, he was, um, pretty good about it. Much better than I was expecting.' 

'What were you expecting?' 

'Oh, you know - get out of my house I don't ever want to see you again you pervert.' 

'That's the Jim of old speaking. Your Dad's changed a lot over the years.' 

Jim was silent a moment, his gaze going inward before he looked up with half a smile. 'I remember reading years ago a great line. It went something like: When I was fifteen, I couldn't believe how stupid my father was. When I was twenty-five, I couldn't believe how much he'd learned in ten years.' 

Blair chuckled, pushing his shoulder into Jim's. 'Okay, so it took you a bit longer, but hey, success is success.' 

'Exactly. Anyway, he admitted to being shocked and surprised. We had a drink and I deliberately gave him a little time to absorb it. When I left, he gave me a hug. Said it was going to be strange for him to get used to, but that I wasn't to worry that he'd be awful about it. That I was to make sure I brought you to Christmas dinner so he could have a chance to get to know you better.' 

'And?' 

Jim shrugged again, his gaze stretching into the distance. 'I was just grateful he didn't give me some hippy bullshit about stuff like, him being happy as long as I was happy.' 

Blair laughed again, eliciting a bashful chuckle from Jim. 'And he didn't tell you he loved you anyway, no matter your "lifestyle choice"?' 

'No, thank god!' 

Their laughter echoed softly against the trees and snow. The path had been cleared the day before and now their boots just crunched against the fall from last night. They let the silence breathe between them for a while, as Jim reached out and took Blair's hand, holding it in his own, even though there were several layers of leather and wool gloves between them. 

Blair deliberately let his mind wander, soaking up the landscape, remembering their incredible lovemaking this morning. He didn't want to anticipate the conversation they were about to have, and instead, conjured up an image of their bed, the sheets all pulled back, a naked Jim on all fours before him, pushing back into each and every rough thrust Blair made into him. Working only a little harder, he could almost hear Jim's urgent groans in the rustle of the pines drifting in the breeze. Sex in nature - how appropriate. 

There'd been a time, during the first awful weeks after he'd left Cascade, when he'd thought that Jim's reluctance to pursue a romantic relationship with him was entirely due to his inability to deal with the physical side of it as well. That he could see himself kissing and holding Blair, maybe even performing a little petting, but wanting to neither give nor receive oral sex or anal intercourse. 

But such thoughts hadn't even entered his head when Jim had arrived at the Westwood Motel. It had only been afterwards that he'd realised how wrong he'd been. Jim's desire for, and indeed, need for sexual completion with Blair was as powerful as his own. He should have guessed. After all, every single step of this relationship, every ounce of desperation and urgency had been mirrored in the other, as though neither of them was physically capable of taking a step without the other. 

And somehow, that only made the coming conversation more difficult, so he decided to prolong the agony no further. 

With a gentle squeeze of Jim's hand, he said, 'Go ahead. Tell me. All of it.' 

Jim nodded and began speaking, his voice level, mostly unemotional, occasionally giving away his anger, or his fear, his frustration and even a little of his loneliness. It wasn't as factual a report as say, something he would write up for Simon, but Blair found no cause to ask questions, no place where Jim was obviously keeping something unpleasant from him - especially when it came to the admission of how Jim had set up the loft ready for Saunders. Besides, he wanted to give Jim the chance to talk without interruption, letting him find his own voice. 

By the time Jim finished his story, his voice was a little hoarse, his words enough to break Blair's heart. Their walk had taken them past the outlook and deep into the woods and he was glad of their comforting embrace. 

After a few minute's silence, Jim began again. 'It probably won't surprise you if I say I hadn't planned to tell you everything, knowing how you would feel.' 

'How I would feel?' Blair couldn't look at him. Guilt tore into him, undoing all the good Jim's presence had done. 'You can't know how I feel.' He pulled his hand from Jim's and walked a little way on his own, not surprised that Jim let him. He came to a halt then, blinking back tears stinging his eyes, already feeling the cold. 

'I know exactly how you feel,' Jim replied gently but firmly. 'You think it was all your fault. Am I wrong?' 

'Don't play games with me, Jim,' Blair grunted. 'We've gone way past that.' 

'Blair, look at me.' 

Blair could only turn further away, pulling in breaths that cut him inside. 

'Please, Blair. I need you to look at me.' 

Before he could move, Jim was standing in front of him, not touching him, just there. 'Just hear me out. I'm not going to pretend that you didn't make mistakes - leaving my name in your thesis, leaving it where you mother could have access to it. Sure, big mistakes - but you have to understand, it wasn't all _your_ responsibility.' 

'Of course it was.' 

'Just listen to me.' Jim reached out and tilted Blair's face up towards him, forcing him to meet Jim's gaze. 'I trusted you. I learned to trust you and I believed in you. You were so right with everything to do with my senses, and all I ever did was complain about them, bitch about having to do more tests. But in the back of my mind was this sure knowledge that you knew what you were doing, and that I could trust you, so I had no problem giving my trust over to you.' 

'And I betrayed you.' 

'No you _didn't_! Betrayal would have had you taking Sid's offer and leaving me to the wolves.' Jim took in a breath and continued. 'I trusted you so much, that I walked straight from trust into reliance. I relied on you for everything - not just to do with the senses. You became such an integral part of my life, that when people asked me when you were planning on moving out of the loft I found myself wondering why.' 

Blair only looked at him, too afraid to say anything. 

'It wasn't the trust that was the problem, Chief - it was that I got so used to relying on you, I forgot that half the responsibility was mine.' 

'You didn't write the dissertation, Jim, I did.' 

'I'm not just talking about the dissertation. I'm talking about everything. I knew you were writing it, but I never asked about it, never wanted to know if there was anything I could do to help. God, I stole and read the intro chapter even though you'd told me that to do so could spoil the validity of the whole study! I got in your way, in your face, did everything I could to hinder you and it never once occurred to me to take responsibility for my part in it.' 

Blair frowned, 'What part?' 

'Weren't you always telling me it was _about_ me? That whole thing about fear-based issues. Chief, I behaved like a child, then bitched that you wrote about it! It never once occurred to me that if I didn't want you writing about my fear-based responses, all I had to do was stop them.' Jim spread his arms wide and shook his head. 'It wasn't like we hadn't discussed stuff like that before. And man, how much effort did you put in to helping me? Day after day, week after week and I'm not talking about the senses at all now, or even work. I'm talking about _me_. Every time I had shit going down, you were there, asking me, pushing me, supporting me, even shouting at me if necessary.' Jim paused and took a breath, his face frowning with self-dislike. 'And I let you. In fact, I went out of my way to put you in a position where you _had_ to push me. And why? Because I knew you would, I knew I could rely on you to get me through it, no matter what it was. It was just so much easier that way and I would never have to accept responsibility for pushing myself, for my part in the whole thing.' 

His throat closing up a little, Blair stepped forward, wrapped his arms around Jim's waist a moment, and gave him a hug. Jim's arms came down and held him for long, silent moments before they stepped apart again. 

'But Steven, in his little Oscar-nominated role as devil's advocate, made a very good point. Because I couldn't see that it was my responsibility to fix things, I made no effort to. Shit, Chief, when the whole sentinel thing hit the headlines, what was my first - and only - reaction? To blame you, to stand back and tell _you_ to fix it. And you did.' Jim's voice dropped to a whisper, his hand brushing against the side of Blair's face. 'You did using the only weapon you had to fight with. And I stood by and let you do it. I stood by and took no responsibility for the fact that I could have asked you if my name was in it, asked you if you were keeping it secure, perhaps even suggesting ways to make sure. It was _my_ life we were talking about, and I made no effort to take care of it. I left it all up to you. That way, when things turned sour, I could lay all the blame at somebody else's door.' 

'Jim,' Blair shook his head a little, 'now you're making it sound like it was all your fault, and it wasn't.' 

'No, it wasn't - but neither was it all yours. I can't ... I _won't_ continue this thing with you if we don't reconcile the simple fact that we both made huge mistakes, that our lives were almost ruined because of them, and that we've survived this far because we _both_ fought to get what we wanted.' He paused a moment, then added, 'We have to be equal in this, Chief, or somewhere along the line, we're going to fall apart, and I couldn't ... I couldn't live with that.' 

His words thick, Blair nodded, 'I couldn't either.' He came close again then, just pressing his forehead against Jim's chest, Jim kissing the top of his head in response. 'I felt so fucking impotent living back here. All I could think, every single day was that Jim needs me, and I'm not there to help him. I'm failing him. I fucked up and left him to face the music on his own. I wanted to believe that you could do it on your own, but I was just too scared to think even you could fix something like that and come out alive.' 

Jim's arms came around him then, and they just held each other, keeping each other warm in the winter air. 

'So, how long can you stay?' Blair asked eventually, hating the question, hating the answer before it was even given. 

Jim kissed the side of his neck before he replied. 'As long as you want me.' 

Blair frowned then pulled back to look at him. 'When do you have to go back to work?' 

Jim didn't look at him, but instead, reach up to tuck stray hairs back under Blair's cap. 'I resigned from the PD. I had so much leave accrued that I only had to work one day to complete my month's notice. Simon was a little pissed, but I gave him enough of the facts to calm him down.' 

'You resigned?' Confusion rattled around inside Blair then. 'But why? You beat them. They're off your back. You can go back to work and not worry about anything. What was the point of-' 

His words were cut off as Jim kissed him, softly, wetly, tongue lightly playing with Blair's. He broke off, but stayed close, his words felt on Blair's mouth, like prayers. 'Can you go on living here without me, Chief? Do you want to go another seven months before we can meet up at a motel somewhere and spend the night fucking mindlessly before we have to part company again?' 

'Well,' Blair swallowed, 'I could certainly do the fucking mindlessly bit again.' 

Jim smiled tenderly. 'We will. But I don't want to have to wait more than a few hours. I want to be here, with you. Wherever you are, that's where I am.' He paused, pressing another soft kiss to Blair's lips before adding, 'I sold the loft.' 

'What?' 

'All my stuff's in storage at the moment. Payment comes through in another thirty days, but the deposit is pretty neat.' 

Though Blair knew he probably shouldn't, he couldn't stop smiling. 'I can't believe you sold the loft. You loved that place.' 

'Yeah, I did. But hey, I love you more. And it wasn't worth shit to me without you there. You were right to leave. You couldn't do anything more in Cascade, at least for a few years. As it turns out, if you'd stayed, those goons would have got you and we would have had a whole new set of problems I don't even want to think about. But the same thing applies to me, Chief. I need time to let things settle down before I can go back and do my job without people always looking at me, without questions popping up now and again. But that's okay, because there's other things I can do, other places I can be a sentinel and protect. I can let go, Chief. Can you?' 

'Oh, shit, Jim, of course I can! I just can't help feeling that I ...' 

Jim held up a finger in warning. ' _We_ , Chief. This is _Us_ here. Start getting used to the idea that what happened was us.' 

Blair could only gaze at him, amazed, shocked, hopelessly in love. 'Yeah, um, okay. You might have to...' 

'I'll keep watch, Chief. That's my job, okay?' 

'Yeah, okay.' 

'So, um, what are you going to do now?' 

'Dunno.' 

The shortness - and nonchalance - of the answer made Blair laugh. 'That's it? After that incredible speech, the best you can do is dunno? Oh, man, you are something else!' 

'Hey, I've got a boyfriend I love - and who loves me. I've got somewhere to rest my head tonight-' 

'Between my legs if I get my way.' 

'A boyfriend who plans on having his way with me tonight,' Jim amended, ignoring Blair's snigger, 'a truck freezing in the car park, my belongings in safe storage, money to burn and the rest of my life to play with. I'm sure I'll work something out. Of course, a lot of it depends on you. On what you want to do. What _do_ you want to do? Stay here and teach?' 

'Well,' Blair considered. He hadn't really thought about it as a long-term solution. 'I do love it here and the teaching it great. But I'm not sure I want to spend the rest of my life doing this.' 

'That's okay. What say we just get busy living here until say, spring and then consider our options? I'm sure I can find plenty of things around here to keep me busy. To be honest,' he paused, taking a deep breath with his eyes closed, 'the idea of having a sort of holiday for my senses sounds pretty good to me.' 

'Yeah, I guess it would. Sorry I didn't think of that earlier - you know, over the last few years. Though I suppose we did go camping now and then. Could have done more, though.' 

'We will.' Jim pursed his lips then, gazing down at Blair, 'There's something I really do have to tell you, though.' 

'What's that?' 

'I'm freezing my ass off here. Can we go back inside?' 

'What? But you're like this walking heat generator, man. How come you get to be cold!' 

Jim grinned, took his hand and pulled him back onto the track towards the village. 'The operative term being 'walking'.' 

Blair was silent as they wandered back towards the village of houses and chicken coops, wood piles and common rooms that had become his home. 'I was dreading you leaving.' 

'Not gonna happen, Chief.' 

'Okay. Good.' 

'There won't be any problem with me staying, will there?' 

'Oh, no. Just you know, everybody has community tasks, responsibilities to help the village as a whole to keep functioning.' 

'I suppose keeping one of the school teachers in a state of permanent sexual satisfaction isn't going to cut the mustard?' 

'Well,' Blair tried to suppress a smile, 'I'm sure it'll be considered a _huge_ contribution - especially to the teacher in question - but you might need to, you know, chop a little firewood and feed the chickens or something, just so people actually get to _see_ you at work, and not just shake their heads at the physical wreck your boyfriend has become with an insatiable sentinel in his bed every night.' 

Jim gave him a beautiful smile then, 'I like the sound of that. Every night.' 

'Yeah, me too.' Blair smiled back at him. 

Then Jim added, 'You never gave up fighting for me, Chief. That's how I learned to fight for you. Just don't ever expect me to stop, okay?' 

'I promise, never.' 

'Let's go get a coffee and warm up.' 

'Great idea, only I was thinking maybe you could get a start on your primary new job, you know? We're on the only honeymoon we're likely to get.' 

Jim grinned sexily at him as he opened the door to the common room and ushered him in. 'That's the very next job on my list.' 

They made coffee and took a table in the corner, near the roaring fire. There were a few other people sitting around talking, so Blair kept his voice low as he said, 'So, um, I guess you took all that stuff back to the shop.' 

'All what stuff?' 

Jim look so relaxed, Blair couldn't tell if he was playing or not. 'You know ... the... er, porn.' 

'Um, yeah.' 

'Did it give you any, er, inspiration?' 

Jim grinned, 'Yeah, a little.' 

'And you didn't think I might like to ...' 

'Well, I knew you didn't have a VCR, Chief.' 

'Yeah, but there was, you know, magazines, wasn't there?' 

'Sure,' Jim shrugged, taking a mouthful of coffee. 'Reading matter scarce here, is it?' 

'You could say that.' 

'Well, as it happens...' 

'I knew it!' Blair hissed, sniggered with embarrassment, then nodded, 'Go on.' 

'I did stop by on my way out of the city and picked up a few things I thought you might like to, um, look at. I've got another few bags of luggage still sitting in the truck. We'll have to grab them on the way back.' 

Blair wrapped his hands around his coffee and glanced up at Jim, suddenly a little shy. 'I've never actually seen ... a gay magazine.' 

'I think we can fix that.' Jim replied evenly, giving nothing away. 'Wouldn't want your education to suffer, would we?' 

'Nope, exactly my thinking.' 

Blair sat back as he saw Ralph and Peter approach, hand in hand as they always did, no matter where they went. Though Peter was in his late forties, Ralph pushing sixty, there was obviously still a lot going for them in their relationship. 

'Howdy, boys.' 

'Hey,' Blair replied with a smile. 'How's the new bathroom going?' 

Peter nodded, 'Almost done. Just painting the ceiling today. Probably put on the second coat tomorrow if it dries okay.' 

'Great.' 

Ralph looked at Jim, 'So how are you settling in? Nice place, ain't it?' 

'It's beautiful. I can see why Blair fell in love.' 

'Yeah,' Peter added, his eyes all over Jim. 'So can I.' 

'Down, boy,' Blair laughed. 'No poaching allowed.' 

Peter turned to Ralph with a playful frown, 'Since when did that rule come in?' 

'Some time in the seventies. You were stoned.' 

'Oh, yeah. Okay.' 

Ralph turned back to Jim, 'Don't mind him. He always gets frisky when there's new love in the air. I take it you two are doing okay?' 

Jim glanced in bemusement at Blair, but nodded, 'Yeah. We're good.' 

'Jim's staying.' Blair added, unable to keep the joy out of his voice. 

Ralph raised his eyebrows. 'Staying? That's great, man. It's nice seein' Blair so happy. That's more smiles I've seen on him since he got here.' 

'I plan to keep it that way,' Jim nodded, businesslike - making Blair laugh a little at him. 

'Still,' Peter added, 'around here, it's not always that easy to keep a relationship on steady ground.' 

'Oh?' Jim raised his eyebrows as though he thought a commune would have exactly the opposite problem. 

'Yeah,' Peter continued seriously. 'You're living with your guy day and night. Working alongside him, facing him over the dining table. If you have a fight, there's not a whole lotta places you can walk out to, and round here, if you slam a door, everybody hears it.' 

Blair frowned, not sure he liked where this was going, but Peter didn't pause. 

'It's really just a privacy issue. You have to make sure you get some, especially you know, when you're doing the hot stuff.' 

'Hot stuff?' Jim repeated, blanching - and Blair could only send calming thoughts to him. 

'Yeah, you know,' Peter continued in his serious vein. 'We all do it - okay, some of us don't do it as much as we used to, but we all do it. I know you an' Blair here were doing it all night, not to mention this morning.' 

'Um, Pete,' Ralph placed a hand on his lover's arm but Peter hadn't finished. 

'It's just the privacy thing, you see, guys. And really, if you er, want to retain any at all,' he did pause then, to gather Blair into his gaze, 'you really need to, um, close your bedroom curtains.' 

Blair froze. 

'What?' Jim whispered. 

Peter shrugged, 'Look, I know all too well how frisky you boys get first thing in the morning, and man, the exercise is good for you, any doctor will tell you that. So I'm not sayin' stop doing it - just, you know, keep it indoors.' 

Blair blushed as he felt Peter's gaze land on him and stay there. He blushed to the tips of his ears, down his neck and he was sure, down to his belly. 

This morning, he'd fucked Jim on the bed. They'd had the lights on, had fucked hard and deep for a good twenty minutes during which time, he'd urged Jim to fist his cock and come all over the sheets ... oh, dear god! Mortification swept through him. He would never be able to show his face outside his bungalow again. No, he couldn't even face living here - it would be too much. And how could Jim... 

He couldn't look at Jim - he knew what he'd see, but Jim was talking to him, calling his name, making him look up. Jim didn't seem upset at all - which made him think for a moment that he was dreaming all this because this was something Jim would rather die than hear. 

'Chief?' 

'What?' Blair croaked. 

'The curtain was closed.' 

The words made no sense to him for a moment. 'But Peter just said...' 

'I closed them myself before we, er, got started. I promise you, Chief, they were closed.' 

Blair blinked at him a moment longer, and then the penny dropped and he turned an accusing look on Peter - who couldn't keep his straight face a moment longer and burst out laughing. Ralph stood beside him, smiling in apology, shaking his head. 

'Oh, man,' Peter chuckled, placing a hand on Blair's shoulder. 'That was so worth it just to see you blush again! I gotta go tell Heather that I win!' 

'Hey, Blair, I'm sorry,' Ralph elbowed his wayward lover to one side, pulled Blair out of his chair and gave him a hug of apology. 'But you gotta admit, it was a good one. The look on your face was priceless and that blush could've heated Wyoming for a month.' 

Blair found himself smiling despite his predicament. As Ralph stepped back, Peter was still grinning, chuckling, 'Man, makes me wonder just what you boys were up to this morning to make you blush like that. Still, gave me a good laugh. No hard feelings, Blair? Or perhaps I should rephrase that?' 

Now Blair had to laugh. Peter had been a great friend while Blair had been here on his own, answering any and all questions Blair had, not just about sex, but about men, relationships and how to survive them. 

He was just going to have to learn to stop blushing. 

Peter pulled him into a fierce hug for a moment, his words soft and for Blair alone. 'You two have the goods, man. You'll go the distance. I'm never wrong about this stuff.' 

Then the older man let him go and Ralph took his lover's hand once more. Peter turned back to Jim, gave him a half-shrug of apology then said, 'Welcome to the family, Jim. We'll give you today on your little honeymoon, but tomorrow night come up to our place for dinner. Ralph cooks.' 

'Sure,' Jim nodded, obviously uninjured by the other man's joke. 'Love to.' 

With that, the other two waved and headed out, their laughter silenced with the closing door. 

Blair stared after them. 'I'm going to get him back, you know.' 

'Yep,' Jim nodded, his gaze on the same place. 'But it'll need to be planned carefully.' 

'Uh huh. Any ideas?' 

'Yeah, a few. You?' 

'Plenty.' 

'And?' 

Blair turned to him, feeling his face cooling nicely. 'I believe we have an agenda of our own for today?' 

'Um,' Jim frowned, feigning a loss of memory. 

'Coffee, followed by retrieving your bags from the truck - which we need to park in the barn. Then back to our place to unpack. Then I believe you have some work to do, earning your keep here.' 

'Earning my keep?' 

'Hey man, it's a tough job, but somebody's gotta do it. That somebody is you.' Blair couldn't stop smiling. He stood, collected their coffee cups and walked across the common room to wash them. Though he wasn't a sentinel, that didn't stop him feeling Jim's eyes follow him all the way, nor did it take him to be a mind-reader to know that it was his ass Jim was watching. 

Well, what was all that education for if in the end, he didn't know how to keep his sentinel focused on the task at hand? And for the next few hours - and indeed, few days - he intended to keep his sentinel _very_ goal-focused indeed. 

The End 

* * *

End Map of the Sentinel Heart Part 2 by Scala: scala8925@yahoo.com

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Disclaimer: _The Sentinel_ is owned etc. by Pet Fly, Inc. These pages and the stories on them are not meant to infringe on, nor are they endorsed by, Pet Fly, Inc. and Paramount. 


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